The next couple of episodes come from two of my good friends in the podcasting world. The first one we’ll hear from today, was probably the first or second person to hear of this hair-brained idea I came up with, that we now call the Spoken Wood Podcast.

Comments (2)

So I understand your point, but hate to say I love the Olive Garden. It may not be because of the food however. My wife and I were going trough kind of a rough patch and we wound up at the Olive Garden and there stuck away in the back corner we sat and talked as we ate. The wine flowed and soon we were laughing and planning and appreciating each other once again. And that is how I feel about woodworking.
I’ve been away from woodworking for a long time and have recently rediscovered it. That rounded edge you described was much more of a concern for me that Olive Garden’s food. My woodworking budget is extremely limited so I’ll pick up a sheet of veneered plywood from a box store rather than glue up solid wood for a panel or purchase that coveted premium plywood. But that doesn’t matter! It’s how I feel when I’m passing that low grade plywood through my Dad’s saw. The feeling I get when a vision in my head becomes a reality in my shop. There maybe a gap in one of my joints but it’s still a joint and I’m having a ball making it.
I’m sure I’ll never approach the level of craftsmanship my father did but in a small way I’m carrying on his legacy of fine woodworking, well in my case not so fine woodworking. My uncle once told me a story regarding my father’s woodworking. He was a teenager and his dog had just passed away. He had made a small box to bury him in. As my uncle described it it was near perfect, less one flaw, a tear stain in the finish my father couldn’t get out.
So my woodworking, much like the Olive Garden, is measured by my experience with it. Sometimes the value of a piece is enhanced by it’s flaws because that means I’ve done more than just think about how much fun it would be to build something. It means that I did build something.